


Hammerhead

by PaxVobis



Series: The Early Demos [1]
Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Awkward Boners, Big Boys In A Big Bed, Blow Jobs, Blushing, Boners, Brotherly Affection, Carrying, Choking, Come Shot, Erections, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time Blow Jobs, Frottage, Godklok References, Hazing, Hotel Sex, Hotels, Humiliation, Inappropriate Erections, Internalized Homophobia, Intoxication, Jock Nathan, LSD, Large Cock, M/M, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Misogyny, Muscles, Mutual Masturbation, My Dick Is As Big As A Shoe, Nathan Big, Nathan Punch, No Romance, Non-Consensual Touching, Palling Around, Porn Video, Porn Watching, Post-High School, Preklok, Really High, Recreational Drug Use, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Secretly a Virgin, Sex Work-Phobic Language, Sex workers, Touchy-Feely, Underage Drinking, a little bit, ha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-07 08:28:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14076918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaxVobis/pseuds/PaxVobis
Summary: It's early days for Dethklok yet, and when Magnus suggests he and Nathan should take some acid and write songs for the night, the relatively innocent Nathan is all about it.  But now they're stuck in the hotel his dealer is selling at, Magnus is fucked up beyond rescue, and the acid doesn't even seem to be working on Nathan.  How is he gonna deal with babysitting this weird motherfucker all god damn night, with only titty channels to keep them company?R18+ only, explicit sex and drug use.





	1. Chapter 1

It had been Magnus' idea to get acid in the first place, and it was Magnus' friend - or 'friend' - who was selling it out of a hotel room up by the bay, but sitting here on the hotel bed with Magnus rolling around beside him like a house tom that had had his first fix of nip delivered straight into his veins, Nathan was still not sure precisely whose fault their predicament was.

He would have liked to blame it on Magnus, but at its heart, it was a good idea.  They had a new band.  They had a great name.  They maybe even had a bassist, if the guy was on board.  They were gonna just chill out and songwrite.  Death metal.  Magnus' pager - strange that he would have a pager - had beeped from between the couch cushions and hey, his friend had acid.  Nathan had never had acid but he was not about to pass up the opportunity to try it.  He thought - and Magnus said as much - that if they took the acid, it would be easier to find the inspiration they needed to write the most brutal songs to ever grace the east coast.  Sometimes inspiration was hard for Nathan, his imagination got jammed up, y'know.  So this was sensible.

The friend was selling acid from this hotel room, and so Magnus had driven Nathan there for his first proper drug deal.  Nathan had bought weed in New Port Richey and he'd even managed to find friends here in Tampa who'd source it for him, but he'd never touched the hard stuff.  Magnus was six years older than him and had lived in Tampa for about that long, and Magnus had connections, man, and he fawned about being able to give Nathan this experience.  No, it was on Magnus - Nathan could put away his wallet.  This was great, man, totally great.  He was gonna love it.  Man.  This was gonna be so funny.

But when they'd gotten to the hotel room, shepherded in to a very boring all-cream little box with a double bed and a big TV, and the friend, a weird-looking, scrawny man with tangled, greasy black hair and too many rings on his spindly fingers had introduced himself as Crispy and started chatting to Magnus, things were quite different to what Nathan had expected.  There was acid – real 80s shit, said Crispy – liquid form.  Magnus negotiated with Crispy and talked him to a pretty sweet deal, thought Nathan as he set down the carton of beer they’d bought (with Magnus’ ID, of course) and pulled out the first can, that involved a drop on a hard candy from an ancient Altoids tin Magnus had inexplicably had in his car.  It was only after Nathan had found himself still sitting on the edge of the bed after what he figured was entirely too long, watching the two of them crowd over the bedside table like surgeons around an open patient, that he realised Magnus had actually bought hits on the entire tin of hard candies.  To sell on, he guessed, and had squared up his shoulders and rubbed his bare arms against the air conditioner rattling high on the wall, and watched them from behind his hair.

Eventually Magnus returned to him with one of the candies between thumb and forefinger.  In those days, Magnus had painted his nails occasionally, and the sickly pink candy flecked with white powder looked strangely enticing bordered by the chipped red lacquer that Magnus wore on his wicked long plucking nails.  Nathan had put his hand out for it, but Magnus had merely gloated down at him and raised his eyebrows, holding the candy up as though he intended to feed it to Nathan.  When Nathan just glared at him, though, he soon gave up and popped the sweet into his own mouth, rolling it under his tongue and licking his finger once he’d done so.

Nathan scowled at him until Magnus offered him the open tin of round, orange and pink hard candies.  Nathan hesitated on choosing one, his greed getting ahead of him as he hovered his huge black nailed fingers over them to find the largest one, and Magnus had counselled him softly from above around the candy that sat under his tongue: “Mango – the pink’s watermelon – but they both have chili so...” – and a weird chuckle around the candy – “Be careful.  Gilly brought them back from Monterrey for me... I used to get ‘em all the time after school in Fresno... get mad cravings, man... I should marry that girl, damn...”

Nathan wasn’t really listening, picked one of the mango ones and shoved it onto his tongue, looking up at Magnus as he shut and sealed the tin.  “Under your tongue,” instructed Magnus, and Nathan rolled the candy around his tongue, “For thirty minutes at least.”  And then he had smiled fiendishly, the pink watermelon candy held between his teeth, and gone back to Crispy to chat.

This had pissed off Nathan because they were _supposed_ to be writing songs.  But Magnus wanted to shoot the shit and, he guessed, it was still early – by the alarm clock on the bedside table it was only 8 pm when they dropped.  Nathan had sat there and slugged beer and rubbed the candy against the back of his bottom front teeth to dull clicking, listening faintly to the two others chatting about absolutely nothing – Gilly, a goth Mexican girl who was Magnus’ girlfriend then, Crispy’s motorcycle repair project that would culminate in him biking across the desert _Fear and Loathing_ -style to Vegas, and the only thing Nathan really cared about, Magnus talking up their new band, _Dethklok_ , with this guy, as he should.  Because it was gonna be great.  But it’d be greater if they were actually writing songs.

Other people came to the hotel room and Crispy sold them drugs.  A wacked-out girl with green hair flirted with Nathan but he was in no mood, especially with Magnus in the background winking at him.  The candy started to burn, and Nathan sucked on it as he sat hunched over himself and wished he had his weights with him.  Magnus wouldn’t shut the fuck up and drive him home – as time passed, the man’s chat was peppered with laughter, and he held his chest after a particularly sharp one, as if his voice was breaking, and cast a look back at Nathan. 

“Damn, guy wasn’t lying, huh, Nathan?” he had said excitedly, and Nathan had stared back at him and crushed the candy between his teeth.  It had been forty minutes now, and Nathan was feeling nothing.  He figured this was just Magnus buttering up Crispy for later transactions, something that Magnus was good at.  Nathan preferred not to talk if he didn’t have to.

At 9:20 pm, Magnus had gone totally fucking psycho.

Not the bad type.  Nathan had seen the bad type, when Magnus fought with Gilly in the alley behind a club they’d gone to and made her walk home, when he’d come nose-to-nose with a member of his old band, Fuck Off And Die – Nathan had never seen Magnus like this before, and that made it all the more scarier for what it was.  What was chat smattered with laughter became uncontrollable giggling, from spilling over and waving Crispy away when he expressed concern to shuddering with shakes of laughter, the guy’s spindly form dropping to the edge of the bed and trembling as he giggled wildly and rubbed at his eyes.  Nathan stared down the bed at Magnus in horror as he realised the guy was actually weeping with laughter, and seemingly at fucking nothing, Crispy looking back across the room from the middle of another drug deal and smiling anxiously his friend’s hysterics.

But that was just the start.  Magnus had been subdued for the moment by putting a pillow in his hands and letting him bury his face in it, but by 10 pm things had only gotten worse.  He asked Nathan thirty times if he was peaking, to which Nathan responded “No” thirty times because, fuck it all, he wasn’t.  He asked Magnus about this and Magnus had reluctantly given him another acid candy.  Maybe Nathan was just soooooo big it was taking a while, right?  Magnus sprawling on the double bed behind him, only popping up to flirt luridly and with no success with anything vaguely female looking that appeared in the room to buy drugs off Crispy, his hands on Nathan’s shoulders as he sat up over him like an overeager dog.

At 10:50 pm, Magnus was flat on his back on the bed and staring at the ceiling and Nathan was still fucking sober.  Well, maybe he was a little drunk, and maybe his throat felt a little tight, maybe his body felt hotter than it usually did.  No fuckin’... Yellow Submarine shit though, no pink elephants, no snakes crawling out his mouth.  Nothing.  Magnus was clearly having _an experience_ and he’d had a lot more acid in his lifetime than Nathan, i.e. any acid at all, and so it couldn’t be tolerance.  And Magnus hated being nice to anyone who wasn’t going to suck his dick, so he probably wasn’t faking it either.  Nathan was just... god.  It was too horrible to think.

But most importantly, Magnus wasn’t driving them anywhere.  At 11:22 he had suddenly realised what the time was and had gotten up off the bed and lurched for the door, declaring that they had to go home and _rehearse_ and, like, _finally_ , but Nathan could see his feet falling out of line and the panicked way he darted for the doorknob past Crispy, who was by this point sitting on the floor beside the bed and watching the TV, and knew he was in no state to drive.  With Crispy’s help Nathan had managed to drag Magnus back to the bed and reassured him that they could rehearse tomorrow.  Concerned looks had been exchanged and Crispy had said, “Dude, I think you guys had better stay here.”

So this was really... actually bad.  Nathan didn’t say anything, but nodded and pushed Magnus back down onto the bed.  If he had to sit on him to make sure they got out of here with a complete band then he fucking would.  Crispy pointed out that Magnus sometimes had strange reactions to drugs, and that he tended to pig out anyway – might have had more than Nathan thought he had.  Nathan, on the other hand – he was just a freak of nature, since Crispy _knew_ this shit was hard.  Now Nathan had always resented being the most sober person at the end of the night, which he always was due to size alone.  But this was another level.  Y’know, all he had was the TV to keep him occupied, and Crispy smelt strangely like canned peas.  Magnus was on some other plane of reality and not fun to talk to.  This was just not fucking fair.

At 1 am, Crispy packed up all his stuff, and at 1:20 am when he’d finished, he gave Magnus a hug from the edge of the bed, the guitarist wrapping his arms around his weedy friend and rocking from side to side as he chuckled and nuzzled into Crispy’s neck until the dealer managed to pry him off his body and escape.  He was leaving, there was no point staying here any later and he had a home to go back to and pass out in. 

Nathan looked up at him helplessly as Magnus rolled across the bed behind him.  He didn’t have to say anything – Crispy told him they could stay, he’d paid for the room after all.  Just lock the door and chill out.  The room had an ensuite bathroom, cable, a titty channel or two, y’know.  Maybe try and stay awake until Magnus calmed down.  Then he flicked Nathan’s nose, said, “One of God’s own prototypes, huh, Tonto?” with a smirk, turned off the light, and left.

Nathan just sat there and steamed for a minute in the light of the TV, until the door had slammed and Crispy was long gone.  Then he hunched forward over his knees, staring into the TV screen as it blared shitty infomercials at him, his fingers pressed into his forehead, and muttered under his breath, “Asshole.”  If he never saw Crispy again it would be too soon.  His head beat and swam with the beer, his throat felt stiff and ugly.  God, he was too fucking young to be feeling like this – he was only fucking nineteen!  And worst of all they were wasting time, a whole night lost to Magnus being a fucking moron.

Just as he thought this, Magnus rolled off the bed and the first Nathan knew of it was a thump and a Cuban heel sticking up over the edge of the bed when he looked over in alarm.  “Shit!” he grunted and climbed across the bed to haul Magnus’ ass back up, seeing him sprawled in the space between the bed and the wall with his eyes off-centred and giggling, and Magnus gladly grabbed him and although his embrace was fucking weird, at least it made it easier to pull him back onto the bed.  Magnus was not a small man, in fact he was one of the only men in Nathan’s life that he had to look up to.  Scrawny though he may have been there was weight to him.  It was peeling him off again that was the difficulty.

“Let go,” growled Nathan, gently trying to shove his intoxicated friend off his body, “ _Let_ go.  C’mon.”  Magnus had a fucking _grip_ on him, wrung into Nathan’s shirt, but he managed to peel off his fingers one by one and shove him back onto the bed.  He watched as Magnus’ crazy eyes span and turned angrily back to the TV, which was trying to sell him some kind of horizontal egg whip.  “God, you’re so embarrassing,” he growled over his shoulder, and Magnus just flipped over onto his front defiantly, like a fish in its death throes at the bottom of a bucket.

After long enough without any giggling to get Nathan worried, he turned to look over his shoulder again, and Magnus was still just lying there, half on his front, his face crushed into the duvet.  He must have felt Nathan’s eyes on him because he flinched, and then murmured in a small, sad voice – the first words he’d managed in a fucking hour at least – “Am I really embarrassing?”

Nathan crushed his hand into his chin, and then said, definitively, “Yes.”

“Oh...”  Magnus drew his hand up the covers, his nails crawling over the duvet as he picked at its seams anxiously.  After a beat too long, he rolled his brown eyes up to Nathan, black in the flashing light of the TV, and mewled, “Forgive me?”

Nathan thought this was excessively weird and somewhat pathetic, and simply grunted and turned his back on Magnus again.  It was only after he had stared into the bright white smile of the woman selling him egg beaters for another few moments that he remembered, beyond his irritation and boredom and drunkenness, that there was such a thing as a bad trip and realised that he was probably pushing the poor old dork straight down the rollercoaster to horrorland by shelving him like that.  He figured he didn’t want Magnus to have a bad trip, probably, if for no other reason than how impossible he was going to be when he came down again, and looked over his shoulder at the man again with shooting concern.

Magnus was staring into the stitchwork he’d unpicked, his face long and sad.  Nathan watched him for a while, the blah-blah of the TV foggy in his drunkenness, and when he realised Magnus had not noticed gave a soft rumble of concern.  The other man responded to this, his eyes rolling up at Nathan, and they watched each other across the bed.  Magnus looked glued there, like he had been carved from the same stone as the duvet, all colour washed out by the artificial light of the TV, his shirt open and draped over the covers, his skinny body wasted away.  By drugs, wondered Nathan, by malnutrition?  Perhaps there was a tapeworm living inside his bowels, that would be fucking brutal.  At that time, there was not a single part of Nathan that could be described as _skinny,_ and he couldn’t even comprehend an adult managing to look like Magnus did.  But Magnus bewildered him in a lot of ways.

“Hey,” he said eventually, and Magnus blinked pathetically at him.  The staring was too much for Nathan, he turned away with a grunt of, “Okay, yeah, whatever,” and drove a hand into the carton by the foot of the bed for another beer.  He could forgive Magnus if he really had to.  The guy was a better musician than he was anyway.  Without him, there was no band.

But Magnus had already forgotten what they were talking about before, so taken in by Nathan’s gaze black in the dark, and said weakly, “What?”

“ _Yeah, okay_.”  Nathan hated repeating himself.  He glared into the TV and cracked open the beer.  If he had to stay awake all night, then he wasn’t gonna do it fucking sober.

After quite a while again, he heard Magnus’ broken voice say, “What are you watching?” from the mattress, and Nathan heaved a shrug.

“Dunno, stuff.”  He was dimly aware of Magnus moving behind him as he slugged the beer, pushing himself up on the bed.

“Looks... shit.”

Nathan just shrugged, gave a soft grunt of acknowledgement.  The next thing he was aware of, Magnus was hanging over his shoulder, his chest crushed up against him as he looked over Nathan’s shoulder, his hair hanging dank against his neck.  “Did Crispy say there were titty channels?” slurred Magnus even as Nathan recoiled beneath him.

“Jesus, get _off_... I dunno...” lied Nathan, and shoved him back onto the bed.  Magnus went easily, malleable in his high, pooling at the end of the bed in a mess of curls and open shirt and sprawling limbs.  He rose only to start groping around aimlessly at the covers, shuffling over the bed behind Nathan, who watched him over his shoulder with a frown – slightly amused.  Magnus overturned the sheets and the pillows, but only found the remote on the floor beside the bed in the end, falling back onto the mattress when he had it in hand.

“Aw, I want a beer,” he mewled at Nathan as he sprawled, earning a thin smile, and then pointed the remote at the TV, mashing the buttons until the image jumped to a news channel.  “Please?  Wonder... which one gets to pussy...”

Nathan saw the numbers Magnus hit springing up on the TV screen: 6969696.  Unsurprisingly this yielded nothing but a late night preacher on some junk station, a 6 or a 9.  The next numbers he tried were, predictably, 666, but to Nathan’s eternal surprise the image this produced absolutely was tits.

“Oh, shit,” he grunted, sitting back from the TV and the blatant hardcore porn that had suddenly come up on it.  It was 1995 then and Nathan’s life in Tampa had been depressingly devoid of video players.  First time living out of home, sharing this shitty downtown apartment in the big city with Stu and Kenny and barely a dollar between them after rent, and he couldn’t get his hands on real porn.  They didn’t even have a TV and fucked if Nathan was gonna go to a, y’know, titty booth in the back of some slimy Florida sex shop or something.  He was lucky even to have the pitiful communal stash of call girl flyers in those dark, dark days.  When Pickles had moved in he’d brought an absolutely horrific quantity of back issues of _Hustler_ , and things had... improved.  But in 1995, that was still two years away.  Nathan was porn-poor, or... more rightly... flyers and shared magazines in high school aside... he’d barely even seen it before.

But here it was, on the fucking big screen too, full colour, full detail.  Maybe it was the first hardcore he’d seen but Nathan wasn’t like – uh – it wasn’t his first walk in the park, y’know, he’d seen a pussy before, he’d touched one.  But it was _something else_ to see a chick being nailed like that, bouncing like that, with a thick cock between her spread legs, riding this poor fucker and _the sound_ , man, her moans!  Nathan immediately flushed, his ears and chest burning as he recoiled from what he was seeing.  Slumped back on the bed, Magnus’ eyes gleamed in the darkness, and “Oh, _yeah_ ,” he grunted happily, “I’d buy that for a dollar.”

“Jesus,” mumbled Nathan, unable to tear his eyes away.  He was mortified at his blush, mortified that he was stuck here watching porn with Magnus, but there was something just utterly, instinctually _fascinating_ about this sweaty blond chick bouncing up and down on some unseen dude’s penis.  He was pretty sure watching porn with another dude was... kinda gay, but – a glance aside to check – Magnus didn’t seem bothered, so Nathan cricked his head back, his body hot as he tried to ignore the other man in favour of the film.  He could feel Magnus stretch on the bed beside him, his heavy body weighing down the mattress as he stirred, and the man heaved a put-upon sigh as he fingered the soft rubber buttons on the remote control.

“What is this shit, anyway?  _New Wave Hookers 5?_ ” he said slowly, as if each word took a lot of effort to get out, and Nathan looked up over his shoulder again.

“Uh, what?”

“Tame shit,” explained Magnus, squirming where he lay, and as his spindly hand came down to grope his crotch experimentally Nathan turned away in disgust.  The girl on the screen was just about to put someone else’s dick in her mouth when Magnus changed the channel, flicking back and forth across the porn channels in bars and flickers of different tits and junk.

“Hey...” grunted Nathan and he squinted at the screen, taking a slug from his beer.  He’d been watching that...

“There’s gotta be something better, man...”  Magnus flicked back and forth, back and forth, all the way to the preacher and then back to a romantic movie on another channel, and then he groaned hard.  “Man, I gotta piss.  Where’s the can?”

Nathan pointed quickly, not prepared to test Magnus’ directional abilities on his own.  In fact he was a bit worried about leaving Magnus on his own at all, but the porn was enough - hell if he was gonna help the dude piss.  He watched as Magnus dragged his lanky body off the bed and staggered to the dark ensuite bathroom, then turned his eyes back to the TV just long enough to realise he really wanted to see that first girl again and snag the remote to turn it back by the time he heard Magnus get his zip down.  Well, the belt definitely looked complicated, so, couldn’t blame the guy.

“Man, the moon looks so good dude!” came Magnus’ voice nearly sing-song from the bathroom, echoing off the tiles before the sound of his piss stream bouncing off the bowl followed, and, “Oh, wow!”  Nathan ignored it.  He’d found the channel again and the girl was sucking the dick now, and she was having no trouble at all even though Nathan had heard that dicks in porn were pretty, y’know, big.  He, uh, hadn’t seen that many dicks outside of the locker room or print, and he was vaguely aware from this frame of reference that his own was pretty... big.  But then he was pretty big.  So it made sense, kinda, if that was true.  His high school girlfriend, Charlotte (Charlie for short), had certainly thought it was.  But he didn’t like to think about that if he could avoid it.

Y’know.  Well.  Charlie couldn’t do that, anyhow.

“You gotta see this, bud.”  Nathan looked up to see Magnus slung against the bathroom door, his eyes wide, his shirt falling off his scrawny shoulders and his belt still open, each end held in his hands as if he’d been interrupted half way through refastening it.  He’d otherwise managed to reassemble himself, so Nathan figured you had to be thankful for the little things. 

With a begrudging final glance at the blonde girl who was so, so talented on the screen, Nathan got to his feet and stomped over to Magnus.  The man turned to guide him into the bathroom, which was tiny and stank of air freshener enough that it entirely masked the stale rank urine smell that usually accompanied a male restroom.  There was a high window, shedding faint light on the tiny room through the dusty slats of the curtain, and Magnus pointed to this with a long red claw in awe.  “Look.  See?” he whispered, struggling to articulate his wonder, “She looks like a flower... a lotus pod...”

Nathan looked, reaching up to separate the slats with his fingers.  Magnus clearly thought he was talking about the moon, but you could not see the moon from the window.  All that Nathan could see was a streetlight, reflected in the glass of another hotel window across the street.  He looked back at Magnus, and the guy was leaning on the shower glass with his eyes fixed on the streetlight, hypnotised, his belt completely forgotten.  Nathan just gave a grunt.  It wasn’t worth correcting him.  If he wanted to have an experience, then who was Nathan to stop him.

Magnus slumped then, crumpling to the floor at Nathan’s feet, and in his mind’s eye Nathan saw the guy’s skull bounce off a sharp corner and crack and blood and damn it, brutal, but not how he wanted to lose his musical collaborator, you know?  His heart raced, his ears burning with the female moans coming from the TV in the next room, and without even thinking he had grabbed Magnus by the arms and hauled him upwards, then by the abdomen, and slung him over his shoulder.

Magnus was heavy, and even folded over Nathan’s shoulder his legs hung low on the younger man.  He made a dry heave sound and Nathan felt his stomach cramp against his shoulder, turning his own, and by the time Magnus had groaned, “I feel like I’m gonna barf...” Nathan had carried him out of the bathroom and dumped him back on the bed.

Magnus bounced pathetically and sprawled on his back.

“Stay there,” grunted Nathan, pointing at him.  “Don’t puke.”  And he sat down on the edge of the bed again, covering his face with his hands as soon as he looked up and saw the porn.

“All right,” croaked Magnus, and to his credit he didn’t.  Less shy, he lay on the bed flat on his back with his eyes open for a while – ‘staying there’ – and then forgot the instruction and struggled up onto his elbows, propping himself up clumsily with the pillows and falling back onto them for better viewing.  He had noticed Nathan covering his face, and then soon enough Nathan peering over his hands at the porn, and smiled placidly.

“You like her?” asked Magnus sweetly, feeling over the duvet for the stitches again, and Nathan grunted unhappily.

“She looks like my girlfriend,” he mumbled from inside his hands, and Magnus cocked a brow.

“Didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”

“Uh, my ex-girlfriend.  My ex.”  It felt weird talking about Charlie that way.  It had basically been years since Nathan had seen her now but it all still felt so close to him.  They’d been together years too.  Fuck, no, it was weird, it was weird that he couldn’t call her, it was weird he didn’t see her on weekends anymore or... it had been going nowhere but... it was weird.  Stu and Kenny had both found girlfriends in Tampa, in fact they’d both been through several, but Nathan – well, Nathan... – well.  There were no girls in Tampa that Nathan liked.  Not enough to go and say hello, anyway.  Not like he’d liked Charlie.

“Okay,” said Magnus, reassessing the blonde girl in the movie.  She had her hair up in a messy ponytail, perfect pink thighs, little tits, and white socks that came up over her knees – the roller blades had been abandoned earlier.  “She’s cute,” he said and meant it, but his brow still furrowed.  “Y’know I think this really is _New Wave Hookers._   Huh.  I don’t think I’ve seen this one.”

Nathan just rumbled.  She really did look a lot like Charlie.  It was fucked up, watching this girl rubbing herself while she sucked someone’s cock now; fucked up that it wasn’t his own, fucked up how free she was, how restrained Charlie had been, how much he suddenly felt he had missed out on.  But he hadn’t – Charlie wasn’t like that.  His face burned with embarrassment like his body burned with an internal, volcanic heat even against the air conditioner, but Magnus, who always carried an air of having seen and done it all, was totally unaffected. 

Besides being high as the fucking sky, of course.  He smiled like a ghastly Cheshire and rested his hands on his hairy bare belly as he watched Nathan hide his face behind his hands and long dark hair, and let the room circle around him.  The room, the moon, the cunt on TV.  A beautiful, like, array... made him very warm inside.  Outside, too.  Nathan was sweating, anxious, the perspiration glittering on his pale muscles like he was inhuman, some other terrific creature... and this softcore bullshit, it wasn’t enough for either of them.

“Try that other channel again,” purred Magnus, deep in his throat, and one beady green eye of Nathan’s stared back at him from between the man’s thick fingers.  Magnus’ eyes were heavy lidded, like he was about to go to sleep – and though Nathan resented it, he thought that if he was stuck here with Magnus all night, he could do worse than to watch some hardcore.  It was awkward now, but Magnus was on the verge of passing out.  Probably wasn’t all here anyway.  Yeah, there was no harm in trying.  He reached for the abandoned remote and switched the channel over.

On this titty channel was, yes, tits.  This girl, an auburn-haired beauty with small breasts and a lithe, skinny body, was being held down by her throat on a bed and fucked savagely by her partner, an older man whose face was hidden.  Where Charlie’s look-alike’s sounds had been affectionate mewls of lust and giggles of excitement, this girl sounded like she was whimpering, and even though she choked and wept out _yes_ es and _oh my god_ s the fact was she was still crying.  Nathan lurched back again, eyes wide, as his gut dropped.  Was she... okay?  Oh...

“Lightweight,” mumbled Magnus from the back of the bed.  Nathan whipped his head around to glare at him, but the fucker was just smirking at him.  “Seriously, is that too much for you...?” he asked, slurring as he held up a hand to the TV demonstratively, “That... is softcore.  I can see you reelin’... you’re a lightweight, Nate.”

Nathan said nothing and just kept glaring at him.  Trust him to be into fucked up shit.  The girl’s whimpers grew more hysterical, and Magnus sat up further, peering interested at the picture.  “Chicks like being choked.  Seriously,” he said, and shot Nathan a glance, checking up on him – but Nathan’s glare had not shifted.  “ _Seriously._   It’s an animal thing, y’know... two cats get fucking, you ever seen cats fucking?”

Nathan grunted, which could have been either answer – but was a no.  He didn’t go out of his way to watch animals fuck.  Unlike, apparently, Magnus.  What a fucking weirdo.

“Well,” said Magnus, sitting up properly and shifting closer to the end of the bed with Nathan, “The tom grabs the back of the female’s neck with his mouth, right, kinda to anchor her, y’know.”  He mimed the two cats with his hands, clutching the palm of his right with its wicked red-painted nails over the wrist of his left, letting them bite the skin like fangs.  “It’s a security thing... y’know, reminds them of their mom, grabbing their scruff, right?”

Nathan gave another grunt.  He supposed that made sense.  Still, humans were not cats, and that girl was crying.

“We ain’t so different.  Y’know.  Like getting bit, love bites...”  Magnus craned his neck and ran one long nail down his throat.  He had no marks, as a matter of fact, but Nathan knew that Gilly would regularly come away with gruesome purple marks around her throat – he’d always thought just hickeys, but now that he thought about it, perhaps finger marks as well – nails instead of teeth.

“Y’know?” asked Magnus, and he dropped his hands to his lap, sitting with one leg folded under him and the other slung off the bed.  He reached for Nathan, struggling to see the distance between them through his intoxication, but his floating finger outstretched touched Nathan’s sweat-damp neck to an ugly shudder of violation inside the younger man – like all his hair was prickling.  “It feels good...”

Nathan raised his hand to swat Magnus away.  The touch was horrific, just a fingertip but it felt like burning on his skin – but as his hand brushed Magnus’ away, the man just tilted his head curiously and moved it against his neck again.  “No – hold it,” he said, smiling gently at Nathan, and he scooched closer and plunged his hand into Nathan’s hair, his fingers rubbing against the nape of his neck. 

Nathan lunged backwards in horror, leaving Magnus’ hand floating in the air between them as he chuckled at Nathan’s reaction.  “Feels good, huh?” he said, grinning wide, and Nathan recoiled, confused by the surge of feeling he’d had.  It didn’t feel good, it just felt... too much.  Far too much.

“No, c’mon,” said Magnus, moving closer again, and Nathan could feel his heart pounding, the sound of the girl whimpering onscreen and her partner’s grunts filling his head as Magnus snaked his hand behind his neck again.  Nathan made a rumbling sound of disquiet, that electric, horrible sensation spiking across his spine as Magnus’ fingers pushed through his hair, and then the man’s thumb was against his throat, pushing into the side of his windpipe.  It took him a second to even process what was happening – that Magnus intended to show him – to even realise the hand tightening around his throat.  But Magnus barely got in a squeeze before Nathan pulled his hand off shortly, clutching its hairy wrist and holding it between them as he stared, wildly, at Magnus.

Magnus was laughing, and then abruptly stopped, his eyebrow curling upwards as he stared into Nathan’s eyes.  Nope, that wasn’t good.  No staring.  Nathan hated that shit.  But before he could mumble out a complaint, Magnus had swapped their positions – pulled his hand from Nathan’s grip, and taken hold of his thick wrist, and gently tugged his hand towards himself.  Before Nathan’s alcohol slow mind, never quick at the best of times, could work out what was happening his hand was around Magnus’ throat instead, guided and held there by the older man, his chin lifted and his beard sticking stiff into the air, and Nathan could feel him gulp beneath his fingers, the pounding of Magnus’ heart, and suddenly he was... you know... _taken._

That heartbeat.  That breath.  That was what kept Magnus alive – he was just an animal.  Now he sat here, drugged out of his mind, and laid his life right in Nathan’s hands.  Nathan was not operating on a human level anymore, and though he still felt weirded out – disgusted – by this vulnerability, before he could think about it his fingers were closing on Magnus’ throat.  Both warm hands rested over his own massive fingers, making it easy – pushing him into it – coaxing him into a full choke.  He felt it when it came, too, Magnus’ gag – heard the little strangled sound that came out of him, saw the dizziness in his eyes – and then Magnus was leaning backwards on the bed, pulling Nathan’s hand with him, and he was stooped over him on the bed – and crushing him into the mattress – seeing his face go pale – and he felt so... _powerful_... killing him like that... just _killing him_... could just kill him right here and no one would know – no one would know that he’d _let him_...

A bead of Nathan’s sweat dropped down onto Magnus’ face and he blinked in surprise, asphyxiating under the massive palm that crushed down on his throat, and suddenly the pressure was off of Nathan’s hand, and Magnus was tapping at his forearm frailly with his palms.  Reality rushed in, the sound of the TV, the aircon rattling, and Nathan pulled his hand off quickly and sat up in shock to Magnus’ wild gasping and coughing.  What the _fuck_ had that been.  “You see,” wheezed Magnus, fighting back a giggle, “It’s nice...” but when Nathan looked down his body, he could see the guy’s cock sticking up through his briefs in an arch that poked from his fly, and that was... pretty vile.  Really.

He should just blame it on the porn.

Nathan turned away, wiping the sweat from his forehead in disgust.  “Is that what you’re into, huh,” he grunted, “You just let chicks choke you or whatever...” and Magnus giggled from where he lay on the bed.

“Oh, y’know... or a belt around the shower rail... jackin’ off... amyl-nitrate-filled orange... y’know...” he slurred, and Nathan didn’t know what the fuck that meant. 

“That shit could kill you,” he grunted, and Magnus just laughed again, giddy.

“ _So?_   God!  Fucking kick-ass death!  Who the hell told you that anyway?” 

“Fuck...” Nathan hunched over, the sweat dripping off him now.  This room was too small for the two of them.  “Mom, or whatever, I dunno, it was in the news or – y’know, some kid hanged himself cuz of _Hustler_ or – or Judas Priest or whatever...”

“ _Mom?_ ”  Magnus laughed openly at him now, his nails raking across his belly.  “Jesus!  You’re watching fucking porn and you’re talking about your mom!  Buddy, you are _fucked up!_ ”

Nathan burned with humiliation, eyeballing Magnus as the guy giggled and rolled on the covers.  God, it was hot in here.  God, this guy was a jackass when he was high.  _God,_ it was so hot!  Why the hell was Nathan here!  Why didn’t he just go home!  God, _god -- !_

“Shit, is it hot in here or what!” squeaked Magnus suddenly, and he started clawing at his shirt, tearing it from his shoulders with all the grace of an alligator in a death roll.  Nathan stared at him, snorted in frustration, and decided: fuck it.  And he took the excuse to rip his own shirt off as well, feeling the aircon pound against his bare torso, fuck...

Magnus threw his shirt across the room and it hit the wall, sliding to the bottom.  Nathan just dropped his shirt to the floor, hunched over there still, and slugged his beer.  When he lowered his hand, Magnus was sitting up and staring at him, jeering with a dumb, jester smile.  “What?” grunted Nathan, and Magnus just giggled at him.

“Your chest,” he managed eventually, and Nathan grunted at him. 

“It’s totally bare,” explained Magnus when no question came, and Nathan could see he too was sweating, flushed – his chest densely furred, black and thick, right up to his collar bone.  Nathan knew this of course, he’d been warned from their first meeting that no amount of begging could make Magnus button his shirt in summer.  A California thing, y’know.  He guessed it made sense; you’d have to hold a gun to Nathan’s head to make him put on sleeves. 

Nathan did not care about his hairless chest.  His mom said he had Native American blood and that was why, _Yaneemango_ , and that made sense to him – how he looked, how the men in their huge war bonnets looked in history books – the same nose, the same smooth skin.  His mom knew more than that, but Nathan had never really asked, never really cared.  He said, “Yeah,” and looked at the TV again.  He was pretty sure the girl was cumming, shit.  He’d never, uh... seen that... before...  “Mom says we’re Indian.  Or... y’know, whatever.”

“Shit,” said Magnus, staring at him in awe.  “Really?  That’s fuckin’... dope, buddy.  Fuckin’... Sepultura bullshit.” 

“Yeah,” growled Nathan.  And that should have been the end of it.

But this did not stop Magnus from eyeballing him, and Nathan squirmed under his gaze, trying to watch the girl on TV – and then whipped around in frustration, hating his eyes on him, snapping, “ _What?”_ at him and making Magnus lurch back in surprise.

“Nothing!  Nothing.  You just look... y’know,” said Magnus, cowering and smiling guiltily.  His voice dropped off, and Nathan curled a lip at him.

“ _What,_ ” he pressed, and Magnus wiggled on the plush duvet with discomfort.

“Indian, y’know.  Or – fine.  You look fine.”  Nathan snorted at this and turned back to the TV.  The scene had changed, a girl being pressed by her boyfriend against a mirror in a public bathroom.  “You really fuckin’... pump iron, huh.”

This was a weird thing to say, and Nathan peered confused at Magnus.  “Yeah,” he said, and Magnus squirmed again.  “Why...” but Nathan was not sure he wanted the answer.

“No reason.”  But Magnus still eyed him sideways, crawling to the edge of the bed again.  Nathan narrowed his eyes at the guy, there was an intent to him – yes, he was going to try and _touch_ Nathan again, settling on the edge of the bed with his cock peeking through his fly like that, and Nathan glared at him so severely it stopped him in his tracks.

“Don’t,” he warned, hunching over himself.  “Just shut up.  You’re god damn loaded.  Just sit where you are, watch the video, go to fucking sleep.”

Magnus retreated slightly, giving a thoughtful hum to himself.  “You wanna watch the video.  That’s fine,” he said softly, turning to face it and getting himself comfortable on the end of the bed, shuffling his weight this way and that woozily, “That’s totally cool.”

“It’s fucking weird,” growled Nathan, turning away from him and back to the television himself, “But if it’ll make you shut up, it’s whatever.”

“No, it’s totally cool, bud.  Used to do this all the time in Cali.  Just chill with a buddy, punch a few cones, watch some _pueno_.  It’s super chill, man.”  Nathan did not know what they did in Cali, but - even though this was fucking strange - he had no reason not to believe Magnus.  _Californians_ were fucking strange.  It was the smog, probably, or the shitty off-label flavoured wines.  Got into their brains, man.

So they sat there in silence, about two and a half feet from one another, and watched the television.

The boyfriend in the film, a handsomer man than the last one – this guy with dark, messy hair, well-toned and well-dressed in a 90s way in sheer clubbing top and tight pants – had gotten the girl up on the bathroom counter now, and stripped her panties from her legs as they kissed and crooned over one another, the shots tight and stylish, the man admonishing her for being a slut as he kissed her neck and face.  It wasn’t Nathan’s style, exactly, not that he knew what his style was, but the girl’s heady breathing was still effecting him badly as he hunched over himself, sucked back beers and eyed the television in place of his bandmate.

Now there is a saying, something about frogs and jacuzzis, how one immersed should beware of the water getting hotter... and had Nathan not been substantially drunk by this point he may have remembered his mother mentioning it at some point, noted its relevance – but he was drunk, and as he looked past his knees he could just about see through the blur that he’d finished more than half of the carton they’d brought on his own.  He did not know how much that was, but he knew it was a lot, and that everything he felt right now was the booze and not the acid save maybe this fucking _heat_ and stiff throat.  About half a carton was close to blackout point for Nathan, and he knew that; didn’t care. 

Magnus knew that too.

Nathan dropped another sucked-dry can at his feet and groped for the next one, cracking it open as he hunched over himself and watched the porn.  There were shots of the woman’s pussy now, close in and waxed bare, the man’s fingers jiggled messily in her gash with her legs held up, the bright white skin of her thighs up to the black band of her stockings... whatever, it was natural to get hard over that.  Nathan was just a normal male like that.  He stayed hunched with his arms resting on his knees to hide it, blushing hotly at the screen and ignoring Magnus with every inch of his being.  Because the guy was just sitting there, swaying a little, his lanky wrists folded in his lap, watching keenly beside him.

When the girl was nearing her first orgasm, Nathan a bright pink and wide-eyed this time, intent to catch every second of it, Magnus coughed.  He coughed very pointedly, enough to jerk Nathan out of the moment and then fuck it, he’d missed it, that one little blink and he’d missed it, the best part, _fucking_ Magnus!  When he raised his head to glare sideways at the guy, however, he realised that Magnus had undone his belt as he’d coughed and rearranged himself, slipped his hand into his fly, and pulled his hard cock up straight to masturbate as he watched the porno intently, his other hand stroking his beard as though deep in the philosophical puzzles of the world instead of pussy fantasy.

Nathan felt his face heat this time and looked quickly back at the television.  Okay, holy fuck.  _That_ was happening.  Maybe if he concentrated hard enough he could go blind in his peripheral vision and he wouldn’t have to know, that it was, happening, at all – _god_ , he could, like, _smell_ it.  Y’know, _dick smell_.  Fuck.  God.  _Fuck._   He was going to die, right here in this room, from his own embarrassment.  He was going to die next to Magnus high and jacking off.  _God fucking damn it_.  The guy probably wasn’t even _aware_ of what he was doing, slowly running his long fingers over his cock as he watched enthralled, not even proper jerking just... and obscured by his open fly.

But Nathan’s cock ached too, it fucking _killed_ , throbbing where it pressed hard up against the zip of his fly, and faced with a night of this bullshit otherwise and with his head swimming and Magnus beside him languidly relieving his own tension with loose, absent fingers, Nathan decided: fuck it.  How often would he get to see _real, proper_ porn these days, short of the indignity of a booth in one of Tampa’s grimy sex stores?  And he was just gonna try to commit it to memory instead of blow his load?  Fuck it.  He was gonna jerk off.  Because hell.  He wouldn’t remember tomorrow either.

It took some shuffling to extract it, shifting from leg to leg on the bed and trying to keep his actions covered with his left forearm as a shield, his other hand working open the fly button and dragging down the zipper on his tight and faded blue jeans.  The heat increased with every inch closer he got, even with the aircon pounding against him; that was fucked, this drug was fucked, why couldn’t he have pink elephants like fucking Magnus?  The guy probably thought it was him stroking the glans of his dick up the chick’s bald pussy.

But it felt fucking good to get it out, free the fucking thing, push his hand along it, _fuck_.  There was this beautiful woman on the screen – didn’t have to think about the dude, he was pretty much forgotten, reduced to just a dick in her wet pussy, fuck.  Actually, it was kinda gay already, when you thought about that, like every time you watched porn you were watching another dude fucking.  And that was gay.  So this wasn’t... too much worse.  Fuck.  Think of the hookers they passed on Nebraska Ave on the way to the crappy bar gigs they played, or up to Ybor City when they had better luck; beautiful women, the most beautiful women he’d ever seen.  If he had the money... god, what a dark thought.  But a fantasy, he didn’t have to really want to... y’know... Nathan bet some of those sluts would be okay with his dick.  He bet they’d fucking love it.  He bet they’d think he was a fucking star, not a freak show.

This thought threw Nathan out of his fantasies again, his eyes focusing on the fucking on the screen, dick and pussy, bodies dumb colliding.  This dude, handsome though he was, had a smaller dick than Nathan.  Like, significantly.  His hand tightened around his cock awkwardly, just like holding it as he thought about it – like, yeah, _considerably_ smaller.  Weren’t the fucks in porn supposed to have massive dicks?  Wasn’t he supposed to feel like a fucking weenie in comparison?  But here, Nathan could tell – he was taller, by at least half a foot, than the dude on screen.  He was better built.  And his cock was fucking massive in comparison.

Maybe he should be a porn star.  Fuck.  That was sick.

Next to him, Magnus had gotten into a real beat now, leaning forward on his arm with his other fist loose around his cock.  The sweat dripped from his forehead and off his pointed nose, lit up by the screen, hunched over himself with his eyes fixed on the TV.  Nathan caught him in his periphery, trying not to look at him – but you see, Magnus was taller than Nathan, by a few inches at least.  He was scrawny but he was a big dude, y’know.  If this was about... height, you know... then... and cursing himself, Nathan caught himself trying to get a glance of the length of Magnus’ stroke, how far his elbow moved, to gauge – you know – if it was only a problem he had, or –

You know?

So he glanced.  Of fucking course Magnus noticed; he suddenly looked up, meeting Nathan’s gaze with eyes pin-pricked by the bright screen, and Nathan snorted and quickly looked back at the screen, pretending he’d been beating off innocently the whole time.  Fuck fuck _fuck_.  That wasn’t meant to happen, that was _fucked._   He felt like he’d been zapped by a power lead, burning and chemical, as he stroked his cock mechanically; but across the bed from him Magnus did not seem so bothered.  The guy stared at him for a moment, eyebrow cocked, his hand paused on his dick, and then shifted, the mattress moving beneath him. 

Nathan tried to ignore it, but Magnus spoke his name – “Nathan,” – in a soft and curious way, and he instinctively looked up at him again.  Magnus had moved only slightly, turning his body on the end of the bed so it faced Nathan to a degree and leaning on his fist behind him on the mattress, opening his posture to him.  His expression was dead, nothing to it at all, his gaze flicking between staring at the film and glancing to check if Nathan was looking, but by turning that little the effect was to give Nathan an unobstructed view of his hard, pink cock and hairy nuts jutting from his open fly as he rubbed it.

Okay, so just, hear him out here:  _aaieeeegghhhhhhhhhhhh!?_ Oh, _gross?_   Oh, my god, _gross!_   Fucking _gross!_   Nathan’s lip curled in visceral disgust, peeling his eyes away from the whole fucking, _display._   But – _oh, god_ – like, it was an opportunity, right?  To like, check for sure – if he was a fucking freak or – so god help him, he _looked._

Sideways.  Wasn’t like he gawked or nothing.  Just a glance.  Magnus’ dick was not huge.  In fact, just like the dude in the film, Nathan judged he probably had double the heat that Magnus was packing.  Okay, so that was it.  Nathan looked back at the TV, feeling weird about his cock still stiff in his hand, feeling fucking freakish.  But when he looked at the TV, there was just another thrusting cock to remind him what a freak he was, one that a girl was, y’know, enjoying, prepared to fucking take, unlike him, stuck, forever a freak, forever a fucking—

“Nathan,” said Magnus gently, a smile in it as his hand stilled on his twitching cock, “Don’t be shy, now...”

Nathan didn’t immediately look at him.  What the _fuck_ did that mean.  He could see in his periphery that Magnus wasn’t looking at him, only at the television, his body still open to Nathan as he fingered the tip of his cock thoughtfully.  When he noticed Nathan eyeing him sideways, he smiled back, crooked, the tip of his red-clawed index finger resting on the very end of his dick.

Nathan did not respond, so Magnus dropped the smile.  “C’mon,” he said, raising a hand plaintively, “Hunched over there - I wanna see your cock.”

Nathan looked this time – stared at him in abject horror.

“Ain’t this what we’re doing?” asked Magnus innocently, and tilted his head weirdly in the cold light of the TV screen.  “Didn’t you used to play football?”

Nathan gawked at him through his hair, wondering what the hell that had to do with anything, and grunted, “Yeah?”

“So?  Didn’t you see tonnes of cocks then?  Didn’t they fucking _haze_ you?”  Magnus leaned towards Nathan with a conspiratorial, smutty grin with this, leaning on his palm digging into the covers right next to Nathan’s thigh.  Nathan looked down at it with great concern.  If Nathan had watched barely any porn, then Magnus watched entirely too much.  And kinds that Nathan could not even fathom at that.

“I mean... yeah.  Kinda,” said Nathan, confused, his gaze darting back to the porno as he tried to follow Magnus’ weird conversation.  He was giggling now, grinning broadly at Nathan, viciously.

“Fuck yeah, so?  Tell me about it.”

Nathan frowned at him.  He was still holding his cock.  The movie was still going, girl sounded like she was having a good time.  Why the fuck couldn’t Magnus just blow his load and go to sleep like a normal fucking person?

Okay.  Okay.  Calm down now.  He’d just humor him, it couldn’t hurt.  Nathan gave a snort and looked away, concentrating on the film as he recounted: “Uh... y’know... they useta haze the juniors goin’ onto the varsity team.”

“Oh yeah?” purred Magnus, entirely too close.

“... yeah.”  Nathan eyeballed him.  “But, uh... I skipped the, uh – I skipped it, stayed at Charlie’s parents’ and smoked weed.”

“Oh,” said Magnus, the lust dropping out of his expression and his grip loosening on his dick.  “But they didn’t try to – ”

“Oh – oh, yeah.  They fuckin’... cornered me in the showers or whatever, something – used to get you naked and hit you with belts and chant shit and you had to run through the - or something, y’know.”

Magnus leaned forward again, his smile slicing his face in a cruel sickle.  “Oh yeah?  And so?” he asked, and Nathan continued to stare at him.

“And so... I punch... them.”

Magnus stared at him.

“I punched them,” reiterated Nathan, staring back at him.

“You punched them,” said Magnus, his eyebrows lifting just a touch.  In the moment of silence that followed, his gaze darted to Nathan’s swollen biceps.

“Yeah,” breathed Nathan, staring back at him.  Magnus bugged his eyes crazily at him in the darkness, the whites lit up bright in the TV light around his black irises, and then turned back to the film again.  That appeared to be it, but he still looked back at Nathan – as though he was scared – but while Nathan’s cock was going to take some coaxing again now, Magnus’ was harder than ever.

The scene in the film had changed.  There was a different girl now, a brunette with a high bun, riding on a man laid back on a bed, almost completely obscured by her body except for his legs and his cock lodged in her pussy.  Another man, with gross, slicked back hair, was crouched behind her and inserted his finger messily into her asshole as she moaned and took the cock.  Strange, cos like – her asshole was clearly lubed up, but her pussy looked pretty fucking dry to Nathan.  And y’know, maybe they’d tried, and maybe it had just never fit, but he’d like, fingerbanged Charlie or whatever and he was pretty sure they were meant to be like... wetter... than that.

The scene had no music, a little quieter, and that meant that he could like, _hear_ Magnus masturbating.  Like his heavy breathing and the slip of his hand on hard flesh and slick.  He had to end this, like real soon.  Couldn’t leave.  Couldn’t just stop, that’d be weird.  Magnus wasn’t even fucking watching the film anymore – when Nathan darted a glance across the guy had his eyes closed, his lip curled, focusing on a fantasy rather than the movie.  The only way Nathan could see out of this situation, the easiest way with the least amount of talking, was to just blow his load and get on with his life.  Eventually Magnus would follow and, hopefully, go to fucking sleep.

Nathan focused on the film and took his dick in hand, rubbing the foreskin over the shaft quickly, then quicker, zeroing in on the sensation and ignoring Magnus.  He didn’t care about the woman, but he could imagine the cunt on screen was Charlie’s, or a sexy hooker, and the cock was his own, and the sounds – they were the most important part.  He could basically close his eyes and just listen to the moaning, catch glimpses of penetration every few seconds, and soon he was deep in his own fantasy, jerking with a fucking mission and leaning back on his hand as he swooned.  God, it was so fucking hot in this little room.  Why didn’t he move to fucking... New York or something... whatever...

He was leaning back like that, his legs splayed open and his nuts tight on the brink of cumming, when Magnus suddenly said, “Holy _cow_ , Nate!  What the fuck!”

Nathan stopped dead, the edge of his orgasm dropping into the forsaken abyss of his rage as he looked across at Magnus’ gawping face.

“Your cock is a fuckin’... _monster_.  A fucking beast!  What the fuck!” he exclaimed, much louder than Nathan would have liked, and he quickly hunched over to hide it again.  Which was kinda hard, at full mast, y’know, to be honest.

“What the fuck, Magnus...” he grumbled, covering his face.

“Exactly man, that’s what I’m saying!  Shit’s immense!  What the fuck is that, like a twelve incher?  _Thirteen?_ Fuckin’, John Holmes motherfucker, what the _fuck_...!”

“Could you please, uh, just shut up...”  Nathan placed both hands over his face, humiliated.  His fingers pressed into his temple, and he could feel  Magnus’ crazy eyes on his fucking dick.  It was one thing, watching porn with a bro – yeah, it was one thing whacking it with a bro, _it was kinda something different_ eyeballing his fucking dick and then _commenting on it_.  “Can you just... fucking... watch the movie or whatever...?”

“Naw, man.”  Magnus sat up straight, looking at Nathan with a new, bright-eyed appreciation.  “I’m in awe.  All this time... I was in the presence of - of... and I didn’t even know... in the _shadow_ of a...”

He let the silence hang between them a second, Nathan glaring at him through his hands, and then the smile split Magnus’ face again in a crazy line.  “A _god_ ,” he spat, and crumpled into hysterical giggles, rolling backwards on the bed with his Cuban heels flailing in the air behind him.

Nathan ducked out of the way of a heel and glared ugly at his friend, curling up now on the end of the bed as his laughter shook him.  It wasn’t _funny._   Not being able to fuck the fuckin’, love of your fuckin’ life, the hottest girl you ever knew and she was a stoner too and she was into you and you can’t?   That wasn’t _funny._   Being a fucking freak wasn’t funny.  Everyone fuckin’ laughing at you, that wasn’t _funny._   But Magnus was absolutely fucking hysterical.

"I'm too drunk for this," Nathan growled suddenly, rising from the bed abruptly to stand and try to force his penis back into his jeans.  Magnus looked up at him uselessly from the end of the bed with big, tragic brown eyes, choking on his own giggles as he tried to swallow them back, shoulders heaving, and then - when Nathan achieved as much coverage as he was going to and stalked off towards the bathroom - started to giggle again. 

Nathan shut the fucking door on him and locked it, too.  He stood in the bright bathroom light helplessly for a minute, questioning why he'd even gone in here.  It was still way too hot.  Over the sound of the fan and the distant groans of the porno outside, he could hear Magnus moving around on the bed.  Nathan rolled his eyes and tried not to think about it.  He could feel the sweat sticking to him.

Okay then.  He needed to cool off, kill this fucking boner.  Freeing it from his straining fly again and yanking his jeans off entirely, Nathan abandoned them on the lowered toilet seat and flung out a hand to twist the shower taps.  Once he was naked and the cold water was running, he slunk underneath with a shudder as it poured lukewarm across his burning, flushed shoulders.  The sound of the shower drowned out Magnus' movements, the sound of the sex on TV, and his drunkenness took care of the rest with vacant tunnel-vision.  There was nothing but cold water and tiles and glass.  Fucking  _good._

Nathan rested his hand against the glass and leaned on it to keep his hair out of the water as he let the lust and the heat leave him, shutting his eyes, listening to his own heavy breaths.  Fucking, weird night.  Magnus on acid was practically unbearable.  If nothing else he was glad they'd stayed out here instead of parading that moron in front of the guys.  Maybe his mom was right, and porno was evil - sure seemed like Magnus watched a lot of it, and just  _look at him._   Respect him though Nathan might, the guy was clearly fucked up.  What a stupid fucking night.


	2. Chapter 2

When he had calmed down and cooled off enough, Nathan got out, towelled down and dressed himself again.  He could still hear the porn through the door, some different woman now, but when he stuck his head out again realised his fears were unfounded.  Magnus was curled up on the end of the bed now, dressed down to his briefs, his jeans, shoes and socks abandoned on the floor.  From the peace he embodied snoozing there, Nathan figured he must have finished.  Well, gross.  But at least that was over.

Nathan eyed the guy as he moved back to the bed, but Magnus didn't stir at all.  He looked perfectly happy curled up there, eyes closed, his hands held close to his bare chest and his curls spilt over the white covers, like a dog or something.  Even when Nathan sat down on the edge of the bed again, occupying exactly the same place he had before and flipping the few wet strands of his hair at his neck over his shoulder, Magnus didn't stir.  Nathan watched him for a moment.  Ugly fucker, with the pointy nose and weird womanish features, the thick lips, long eyelashes.  He thought that Magnus looked like a goat - like Baphomet - with his high cheekbones, his billygoat beard.  Nathan wondered if it was cultivated.

Well.  Nathan reached for the remote to turn the porno off and join Magnus in sleep, since what else was he meant to do, but once he was sitting there with the remote in his hand and looking at it – couldn’t quite bring himself to kill it.  He put it aside again, got out another can of beer for want of something to do with his hands and drank it, his throat still stiff and weird.  A half hour later, he stood up on the bed and turned the aircon up against his persistent sweat.  Then he looked at Magnus, snoring softly, and then looked at the porn.  And then turned it off.  The room was dark.  Nathan shuffled up the bed, so his toes were at the base, his head and shoulders on a pillow at the head.  And as soon as he let his head sink down into it, he was asleep.

Magnus did not sleep soundly.  Well, that was acid.  Nathan awoke beside him, blinking open heavy eyes, to the man getting up and moving around – turning over on the bed one time, another, sitting up and watching the television, another, drifting to the bathroom – a shower – or just standing in the darkness in the middle of the room, gazing into the corner of the ceiling, his arms held at strange angles like a shopfront mannequin.  Nathan stewed slowly, slipping in and out of sleep, waking to Magnus again curled up by his side – or leaning over him, whispering _Nathan?_ – or his body flung over the bed, stretched out, his briefs riding down on his skinny hips from the way he’d thrown himself forwards onto the mattress.  But still he slept, flat on his back, hands on his chest.  When Nathan was out, he was out like the dead.

Another waking.  Magnus pulling at the duvet, trying to tug it from beneath his body.  “God, _what,_ ” growled Nathan, cracking an eye open at him, and Magnus bared his teeth, blue in the TV’s light.

“It’s cold – Nathan.  It’s so fucking _cold,_ buddy.  I needta... get in here... in under here y’know...”  Tugging at the duvet.  Nathan shifted uncomfortably, squinting at his bandmate.  It was clear Magnus was making no headway against Nathan’s muscle mass.  He might have been big but he was a fucking bird beside Nathan.  Still, it begged the question.

“Uh, turn off the aircon?” he grunted at Magnus, his head feeling heavy and bloated with the beers, his bladder... feeling... well, just feeling your bladder was enough, right.  Magnus pulled a long face at him, almost a pout, sitting up above him.

“I _tried_ and the thing... shit... it’s, y’know.  It doesn’t make any _sense,_ ” he complained, and this was Magnus-speak for _I don’t understand it_.  The blame always on the outside.  Nathan grunted at him and rolled onto his side to get up, nursing his swollen bladder as he pushed himself off the bed and onto his feet.

“Whatever,” he said, and left Magnus holding handfuls of the duvet as he went to take a piss.  When he came back and switched off the porno, Magnus had gotten himself under the cover like a worm in a silk cocoon, tucking it under his body where he was curled up, and Nathan glared down at him as he’d positioned himself almost perfectly central to the bed, leaving next to no room for Nathan.  His head was face down too, just a spill of dark curls from the mouth of the covers, and the aircon beat against Nathan’s skin and suddenly he felt... that it was quite cold, rubbing his bare arms as he looked up at it.  Maybe the drug was wearing off then. 

But the beer hadn’t, the room still lurched around him.  He could turn off the aircon, but Nathan didn’t like his chances of... like... not falling off the bed.  Too much effort ultimately.  He looked down at Magnus, the blanket hog, and resolved to liberate him from some of them.  It was a big duvet.  There was room.  But Nathan could not wear his jeans underneath a cover.  That was just how it was.  A basic rule of existence.  No clothes under the covers, save pyjamas but who owned those over the age of fourteen. 

Nathan begrudgingly got out of his jeans, leaving them at the side of the bed and dressed only in his briefs, and then took a handful of Magnus’ blanket cocoon and heaved on it.  The sound that came from beneath as Magnus unrolled was like a sheep having its throat cut, but he gave in easily and Nathan got in beside him, hauling the blanket over the both of them.  There was barely enough room on the bed for the two massive men, but _just_ enough to leave a couple of inches between their bodies, especially with Magnus all curled up like a cat, his eyes wild through the dark at Nathan, obscured by the black scribbles of his curls where they fell across his face.  It was very warm beneath the cover.  Toasty.  Big bodies were like that, and Magnus’ hands – when he passed a beer, when he passed a cigarette – were always warm.  Despite the awkwardness of proximity to another nearly nude male, Nathan was very comfortable and very drunk, and sleep took him quickly.

He slept through most of Magnus’ turning, rousing only with a particularly vicious throe which attempted to steal the duvet again.  Nathan caught it instinctively and hauled it back to curses.  But Magnus had been put in his place, lying on his front with his face on a pillow and gazing sadly at Nathan through the dark, and he did not attempt it again. 

When he did wake Nathan again, Nathan opened his eyes to the ticklish but not unpleasant feeling of long fingers touching his hair – flicking the strands out of his face gently, hooking them on a fingertip and moving them away – and a whisper, “ _Nate, are you awake?”_   The touch was bizarre, intimate, and Nathan found it hard to focus on it.  He merely rumbled in response and shifted his shoulders with difficulty.  Felt like the mattress was swallowing him.  It was too fucking soft anyway; Nathan’s mattress back at the apartment was like sleeping on telephone books.  The duvet, like a heavy cloud of... feathers and shit.  Goose down.  Yeah...

“You’re awake,” murmured Magnus, and Nathan could hear his grin – delighted to have company in his high again.  He giggled nearly silently, a little cluck in his throat, and laid the back of his fingers against Nathan’s cheek.  “Are you _high?_ ”

Nathan rumbled to the negative.  His eyes, his whole body, felt like lead.  He’d really overdone it on the carton, fuck.  Always did this, always thought he was hot shit and then sank into the abyss – but usually he did not have company in his descent.  Magnus’ finger touched his lower lip, and he snorted hard enough that it was quickly pulled away.

“Are you _drunk?_ ” cooed Magnus, and his finger returned to Nathan’s lip, pulling it down like one would to check a dog’s teeth.  Nathan did not respond save to curl his lip and open a bloodshot eye, and that was all the answer Magnus needed – propped up over him on an elbow, his body parallel, grinning lasciviously at him like a sickle in the dark.

“Fuck off, Magnus,” heaved Nathan, and Magnus’ finger lifted again, “You’re fucked.”  He could barely keep his eyes open.  Magnus smiled down at him, tracing the spiral of one of his thick ringlets with his red nails down its length.

“We all are, sonny.  Life buttfucks us all.”

Nathan thought about this, just barely, like a great continent moving across his consciousness.  He knew that saying, what it meant... _life fucks us all... no one dies a..._ and “You...” he breathed, the words sinking in his throat and taking great effort to force past his lips, “... callin’ me...”

“What, Nathan?”  Magnus waited for him like a dog at the door.  Watching him, hopeful.  But Nathan couldn’t finish the sentence, and Magnus chuckled softly at him.  “A virgin?  Ha, a stud like you?  _No..._ I would never.”

Nathan grunted approvingly at him.  Good, because he’d fucking punch him out if he did.  If Nathan could move.  And then he was asleep again, didn’t even hear the next word Magnus said.

The next time Nathan awoke, he was on his side, facing the outside of the bed with a pillow clutched to his chest and his cheek mashed into it.  Turned over in his sleep.  There was nothing strange about that particularly.  The objectionable part was Magnus, who was also fast asleep and snoring lightly, laid in about the same position but against Nathan’s back with his face crushed against his shoulder, chin against his own collarbones, one arm folded between his chest and the muscular plane of Nathan’s bare back, the other thrown thoughtlessly to lie limp over Nathan’s hip.  

Nathan stirred but his body felt like lava, thick and heavy and impossibly slow to move.  He could feel Magnus’ breath on his skin, his body warm where it touched him, radiating it.  It was a strange and threatening feeling, to have someone larger than him so close as to practically be holding him, but Nathan wilfully ignored it.  It was warm, it was safe.  Magnus was high.  Nathan could fend for himself.  And the room had gotten colder.  He guessed it was instinct, that the guy was used to sleeping with a partner rather than alone.  He’d probably get a shock himself when he woke up with an arm around Nathan, and honestly, _ha._  Whatever.  Nathan closed his eyes, and left him to make that discovery by himself.

Eyes opening on the dark room again.  His face cold, half his body too, the duvet thrown across him at an angle that left one of his legs sticking out, his chest bare.  Magnus’ breath was hot against his neck, and a warm palm pressed against his inside thigh – what had woken him was its path stroking along the line of his muscle into his crotch, and the mouth closed against his neck, the face pressed up against him rough with stubble.  His own head was hot and clouded with alcohol and a looming hangover, his tongue dry, and he squinted at the ceiling as he tried to work out exactly why this was happening to him.

It wasn’t exactly a kiss, on his throat.  Just a mouth crush.  Nathan squinted harder at the cream ceiling, grey in the dark.  The long hand pawed at his inside thigh, and he was distantly aware that he’d woken up hard.  So... hmm... maybe Magnus was still asleep.  Maybe he’d just rubbed up against Nathan in his dreams – yeah, he could feel a stiff heat against his leg through the thin fabric of Magnus’ briefs.  Nathan lay there still and thought it was a bit like having his leg humped by a dog.  Dumb affection, unfathomable and mechanical.  Except, well, bestiality - bestiality was fucked up, brutal.  Magnus was not a dog.

And Nathan was not a cat, either.

He tried to scrutinise why he had a boner too.  Like, did it just happen in his sleep?  But as Magnus’ nails ran up his thigh beneath the covers Nathan could identify that it was more than that.  Was his dick so fucking dumb it’d pop up even if a dude was touching it?  Even if he was watching dudes… he guessed they _had_ been in the porn.  

And he guessed it made sense, in an animal-type way.  They were just animals - made sense not to care, for a dick not to care, regardless of the person attached.  He meant, right, like Nathan knew that he wasn’t gay.  Whatever his body did.  And that was the important part of it, right?  He was deeply comfortable with his own sexuality (which was very heterosexual) and so, when a high idiot like Magnus who probably couldn’t even see who he was groping went for it, his body still responded because that was how bodies were.  Because humans were animals.  And sometimes, like animals, they still responded to things that made no sense, like with Magnus’ neck grabbing _thing_.

Right.  So if Nathan was an animal - take, for argument’s sake, a cat.  And Magnus was also a cat.  Male cats.  Now cats didn’t really fall in love, right.  There was just mating or whatever.  That was what separated cats from humans - any animals, right?  Love.  And gayness really was falling in love with a man… right?  Uh, anyway.  So if Nathan was a cat and Magnus was a cat and a male cat rubbed up against Nathan (as a cat) getting all fucky, then Nathan -- as a cat -- and a cat that was bigger than this other cat, since he was, y’know, bigger than Magnus -- and since cats didn’t really know what gay was, right -- like there was no gay there was just cats and how they usually were, as a boy cat or a girl cat or -- right -- okay -- then Nathan, as a cat, he would, uh --

He’d fuck it up the ass.  Totally.

 _Not saying_ he was gonna do that with Magnus.  They were both humans, which made that pretty gay.  Like, what if Magnus really was in love with him?  That was _gay_.  Explained a lot, but it was incredibly fucking gay.  But like, so long as he wasn’t, this still felt pretty nice and there was nothing _so_ different about humans to cats.  Really.

When Magnus’ hand rose instead to stroke up Nathan’s torso, caressing his tensed muscles as it went, Nathan decided that was a step too far and caught his wrist at his chest.  Sure enough, Magnus froze against him.  He’d been awake.  Asshole.

Nathan turned his head stiffly on the pillow to face him, putting a few inches between their noses as he shoved his shoulders away.  “What are you, gay?” he rumbled, but couldn’t hide the hint of curiosity beneath his offense.  Magnus stared at him through the dark, his hand held tightly in Nathan’s fist but still trailing on his chest, and he barely even breathed from panic.  Then a broken smile cut over his face, embarrassed.

“No... I have a girlfriend, remember?” he whispered, and though Nathan frowned heavily at him, his grip had already begun to lax on Magnus’ hairy wrist.  He’d forgotten about Gilly.  Magnus had a point, he definitely was into chicks.  So what was this, then?

Magnus gently pulled his wrist from Nathan’s hand, and placed it on his chest again, his fingers spreading slowly as if testing for Nathan’s temperature like a pool of water – testing for a reaction.  “I’m just,” he murmured, looking down beneath his thick eyelashes at Nathan’s chest, then back up at his face again, “Really impressed... by this shit.”  And with that he spread his hand over one of Nathan’s swollen pecs and groped it, watching the muscle in his hand, and then looking up at Nathan again, not without fear, but interested to see if he was about to die as well.

Nathan stared him down.  “You’re really high,” he grunted, and Magnus pursed his lips, thought about it with a cast of his black eyes sideways, and then nodded sagely.

“Mm, really high.  It’s a twenty-four hour thing, good acid.  Don’t you feel it?” he purred, and moved his face closer to Nathan’s on the shared pillow again.  Nathan curled his lip at him.

“It doesn’t work on me,” he said, and Magnus looked utterly heartbroken for him, slinging his arm around him and laying his open palm against his cheek.

“Oh really?  Oh no... Nate...” he cooed sadly, and pinched Nathan’s cheeks until his lips squeezed into a fishy pout.  “God, I’m sorry.  It’s so nice... you really are a freak.”

Nathan shook him off with a vicious jerk of his face that lifted his shoulders, catching Magnus’ hand and pushing it back down.  When his shoulders hit the bed again, he let the hand settle on his chest again, and they lay there, looking at each other, for a strange, thick moment, and Nathan though that Magnus was reading the maths from his own mind – copying it, learning it, and understanding him on that level. 

“Sorry,” said Magnus shortly, and the tips of his fingers ghosted on Nathan’s chest again, testing him.  If Nathan wasn’t gay, and Magnus wasn’t gay, then it was nothing.  Just a high dude with his wires crossed and a normal fucking dude too hung over to care.  Totally.  Nothing.

Magnus hummed his agreement to Nathan’s thoughts, and his fingers traced light over the cut of Nathan’s pecs, his gaze removed from Nathan’s face to examine the landscape of his muscles closely instead, his chin pressed to his shoulder again with the gentle scratch of his beard against his skin.  Nathan, too, just looked at the ceiling, feeling the fingers chase every definition of his chest, exploratory, and then closed his eyes, the cold air, comfortable bed and light touches sending him nearly to sleep again.

Magnus’ head rested against his own as his fingertips dug further into his flesh.  His left hand wasn’t armed with deadly nails like his right, resting against Nathan’s shoulder between their chests, and could grope as he liked without harm, rubbing into his muscles and feeling them out.  His leg hiked up against Nathan’s, crossing over his thigh, and his hard cock in his briefs rested against Nathan’s hip.  Again, like having his leg mounted by a dog – weird, but it didn’t really bother Nathan.  After all, they were both humans.  So like... normal, right.  If you were high.  Nathan was just gonna go to sleep and ignore it.

Magnus’ hand got lower on him, grinding into his abs and pelvis, and Nathan knew his dick was getting stiffer, but... whatever.  That was a normal reaction, body thing.  Shit felt good – and dudes got boners from massages all the time, he’d seen that in a joke on TV once.  So what.  He’d settle in.  Go to sleep again.

Magnus did look up at him again before his hand spread warm over his cock through his briefs, but Nathan opened his heavy eyelids too late to catch it.  A deep rumble of uncertainty left him, looking down his body at the duvet that was cast across their middles, the movement of Magnus’ hand beneath it as he stroked it down over his taut briefs to cup Nathan’s balls and then up the ridge of his shaft, his breath hot against Nathan’s neck in stark contrast to the aircon that even perked his bare nipples on his broad white chest.  He turned his head to look at Magnus, and the guy cast his eyes up to Nathan again with a sheepish smile, a weird faux-innocence, as if he was asking, _is that okay?_   But neither of them spoke, and eventually Magnus’ expression fell, thoughtful, and he spread his hand to grope Nathan’s cock proper through his briefs, the guy immediately stiffening against him.

Nathan let out a heavy breath, as though he’d been holding it, but said nothing.  He couldn’t think of anything _to_ say.  Then Magnus’ hand was pulling at his waistband, tugging his briefs down his thighs, and his large, warm palm closed around his hard cock, and it felt just like his own but one removed, more slender, articulate, and better than Charlie’s tiny hands had ever felt on it, and Nathan dropped his stiff body into the mattress again and let it go.  So, he’d said he was impressed.  And a handjob was a handjob.  They wouldn’t remember it anyway.

Magnus’ hand was slow and gentle, exploring every shape of his cock with his dainty fingers before he settled back to jerk him off, and Nathan couldn’t help but think how much nicer it was than Charlie’s rough attempts, not understanding how a cock or foreskin worked really, not having one herself.  He didn’t hold back his sigh, his head turned sideways but not looking at Magnus so much as the man’s twitching shoulder as he jerked him.  Nathan could smell his hair, like weed and ash and oil, his sweat, a heavy, male scent like animal musk.  He moved only to rest his own hand on his chest, feeling his own heartbeat growing harder – through his shoulder, he could feel Magnus’ as well, his face crushed into his shoulder.  No sound but the rattling air conditioner, and the shuffle of his hand beneath the cover. 

“Nathan,” breathed Magnus, and his thumb dipped over the tip of Nathan’s cock to a bead of precum, smearing it over his head as Magnus seemed to melt against his side.  His hand reluctantly pulled away from Nathan’s dick, and he squirmed weirdly against Nathan’s side – Nathan watched him, only realising when he heard the snap of elastic that Magnus was pulling off his own briefs, abandoning them somewhere beneath the covers to press his bony, bare body up against Nathan again, his cock prodding into the side of Nathan’s solid ass cheek. 

Nathan stared him down across the pillow as he cuddled up against him.  If he thought Nathan was going to return the favor he had another thing coming, specifically being turfed out into the hotel hallway naked until he sobered up.  But Magnus said nothing, tried nothing, just nudged his hips against him and stroked his hand over Nathan’s long cock again. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, and pushed his head against Nathan’s shoulder, “Your dick is so _big_ ,” and Nathan did not need the reminder.  He rumbled unhappily, and Magnus’ hand clutched his far hip, as if to pull him closer as he pushed on Nathan’s shoulder with his face, his breath ragged.  Nathan got the hint and turned onto his side, facing Magnus, frowning at him in confusion and glad the duvet covered the guy’s hairy crotch, his ugly cut dick.

Magnus shuffled his pelvis closer to him under the duvet, his hand moving with unmatched gentleness on Nathan’s cock as he stroked it.  He looked at Nathan like he wanted to fuck, heavy eyed, a cattish grin on his thick lips, and then their thighs were touching – and then, to a grunt of surprise from Nathan lying dumbly before him, his hand gathered his own hard cock along with Nathan’s, rubbing them together hot and beating with his pulse through the stiff flesh, slicked barely by their precum.

Nathan kinda just stared at him in shock.  It was as if Magnus didn’t even notice, hooking his leg over Nathan’s again to bring their pelvises closer, his free hand with its wicked claws rising to squeeze Nathan’s thick pectoral muscle.  Nathan was not going to touch Magnus, but he felt too heavy, and too pleasured, to stop this too.  Magnus’ thumb was hooked around his own penis, the rest of his fingers stroking Nathan, and the hard ridge of his cock against Nathan’s shaft just felt hot, good, forgiving flesh.  Magnus’ breath sounded like an animal in pain, his gaze down their bodies at Nathan’s abs twitching, and he thrust his hips into his jacking, his cock slipping up against Nathan’s length – so long that between them it touched Magnus’ belly with every other stroke and dabbed oily precum against him, Nathan flushing pink where he lay.

Magnus was sweating, his stroke erratic.  “Ugh, Nathan,” he gulped, louder than he needed to and sounding like he was strangling, and Nathan looked up at him to find Magnus staring back, looking defeated, his hand shaking amidst the stroking.  The eye contact shot through Nathan and he immediately dropped it to look at Magnus’ mouth instead, which was open now, and the jerking stopped, Magnus’ hand pulling down on him and towards his body, the head of Nathan’s cock pressing against his belly.  It took him a moment to work out why, what the weird shiver he felt through Magnus’ thigh was, the quivering hand wrapped around his cock, but the pounding pump and throb against his dick gave it away.  Guy had fucking cum, and aimed it back at the last moment to ejaculate against his own belly rather than on the mattress between them.

“Fuck,” hissed Magnus, and he released Nathan’s cock to move his hand under the duvet.  Nathan watched him coolly, his panting and strung-out, loved up face, and he realised with a twinge of disgust and a twitch of his own cock that Magnus was dealing with the mess he’d just created by rubbing it into his own skin, as if that would fix it, squeezing the last from his cock and at least shelving the clean up for when he got up.  This was objectively the most disgusting thing he could do, thought Nathan, besides doubling over and licking it up like a dog.  Lying there with his own huge cock resting against the mattress, Nathan felt grubby, used.

Until Magnus, still panting through his teeth, grabbed his cock again.  That hand was covered in cum, thought Nathan, and he gazed placidly back at Magnus’ grin, the determined glint in his eyes.  “Your cute little girlfriend ever give you head, Nathan?” he asked viciously, his hand tight on Nathan’s cock, and Nathan did not reply save for a rumble.  It had been a bit of a non-event when she tried, her mouth too small for anything, her timidness overwhelming.  He thought Magnus had seen through him, caught him out faking promiscuity, sexual competence, and seen the bluffing, anxious virgin behind it all.  But Magnus didn’t push him on it, just moved up onto his knees, licking his lips, and pushed himself down the bed and the duvet aside until he was up on his elbows level with Nathan’s cock and tugged his briefs off his foot resolutely.

For some fucking reason, it didn’t even occur to Nathan what was about to happen until Magnus’ lips closed over the end of his cock.  He stilled, staring down his body at what was definitely happening right now, which was Magnus sucking his cock, his hand stroking up the heavy shaft.  Uhhhh!  Okay!  Looked fucked up, seeing his stubbly mouth over his dick there, but on the other hand, _holy fuck_.  A hot mouth, a hot hole, felt so fucking intense and so fucking _good_ , Nathan’s fingers closed on the undersheet beneath them.  His fucking tongue, man!  Nothing with a dude should be that fucking _good_. 

Nathan watched in disbelief as Magnus, guiding him onto his back again and up on one hand, fed the thick member further into his mouth, gulping to get it in, his tongue undulating against the base of his shaft.  He still hadn’t got far, not more than a few inches, but it was more than Charlie had ever gotten, more than Nathan thought was really possible.  Now Magnus was a big guy, and he had a big mouth; his jaw could stretch, and he put in the effort, his curls falling down against Nathan’s pelvis as he pushed further and Nathan groaned in awe.  Just seeing his cock disappear like that – the tight ring of strained lips around it – and all up, he probably got half way before he had to pull back with an ugly slurp, gasping for breath and choking with laughter.

“Fuck, Nathan!” panted Magnus through his giggles, “That’s fuckin’, _massive_ , fuckin’, _god forsaken_ ,” but Nathan wasn’t listening.  He was taken by the sight of his own cock in Magnus’ skinny fist, the end glistening wet.  Magnus saw this, smiled benevolently but unkindly, and didn’t bother him with any more words, just dipping to rub his fist with a more earnest beat as he ran his tongue and lips over Nathan’s tight balls, and it felt – _fuck_ , it just felt _fuck_ , his flat hot wet tongue, and Nathan was holding his own temple and fighting not to pant at it, crazy, messy, gross fucking thing, _fuck_.

He knew he was gonna cum.  He’d needed to cum since the fucking porno, and as Magnus’ mouth sunk hot over his cock again and his breath caught in his throat, his stomach knotting, he _knew_ he was gonna fucking jizz any second now.  Nathan gasped and looked down his body at Magnus, who had steadied his breathing enough through his nose to properly give head, like the girls in the videos, working with his lips and tongue and choking, on his belly, his other hand pumping Nathan’s cock upright, _fuck._   Should he warn him?  Was that something people did?  Uhhhhhhh he looked like he knew what he was doing!  It was probably a California thing, gay shit when you were high.  Uhhh! 

It was probably fine!

“Oh, _fuck!_ ” snarled Nathan, gripping the undersheet as his face twisted into a cross-eyed grimace, and his hips jacked compulsively off the bed to a hurt choke from Magnus, his throat stabbed by the throbbing cock he’d been otherwise accommodating and then immediately pumped with semen, his grip tensing on the shaft as he tried not to swallow even as it squirted up the back of his tongue.  Nathan thought he’d blacked out from the strength of it, writhing under Magnus as his muscular stomach clenched, and Magnus hummed unhappily as he held still for it, letting his mouth be filled around the cock his mouth was fixed on.

 Nathan could feel it hot around his cock head, held there, as he came down off it, his back dropping down again onto the sweat-drenched sheet.  As he gasped, wiping the sweat from his brow, Magnus slowly and delicately drew his mouth off of his cock, his lips leaving traces of white slime as he pulled them back daintily.  He sat there with the weirdest look on his face, caused by his jaw sitting open behind his lips as he kept a mouthful of Nathan’s thick cum on his tongue, and then he ducked down the side of the bed, flailing urgently for one of the empty beer cans.  Nathan saw that he’d caught one, bringing it up to the side of the bed, and then spat the mouthful out into it in a gross, thick dribble, slipping from between his lips and dripping down the inside of the can with a hollow sound.

Magnus caught Nathan watching with a glance aside, and smiled distantly at him.  “It ain’t gay if you don’t swallow,” he explained in a dizzy voice, and spat the last of his tainted saliva into the can before he set it down again.  And that was definitely the absolute grossest thing Nathan had ever seen, but not, he guessed, grosser than swallowing.  Nathan lay back uselessly, his body still twitching, his cock laying softening over his pelvis.  He didn’t have anything to say in reply.  He didn’t have anything to say at all, really.

Magnus sat up on the edge of the bed for a moment, gazing around, and then crawled back across to Nathan, sitting up over him.  “You going back to sleep?” he asked gently, and Nathan heaved a shrug in response.  Yeah, he was.  Magnus sniffed, though he seemed happy, and rumbled  to himself before explaining, “It’s cold,” and settling down beside Nathan again, pulling the duvet over them both again.  He lay face-down beside Nathan, body against him, the pillow clutched to his face, and Nathan wondered if he was trying to invite something.  But Nathan was hung over, and yeah, cold now his sweat had lifted, and in the mellow following his orgasm, he sank back into deep sleep easily.

When he woke again, the sun was coming in through the blinds and Magnus was dressed already, pacing around the room until he saw Nathan stir and came over to him, stalking like a fucking vulture.  “Good morning, sunshine,” he crooned, leaning over Nathan with his hands on his knees, “Let’s get breakfast and get outta here.”

Nathan just groaned at him.  Motherfucker was still high, but maybe together enough to drive.  Not a sign of acknowledgement of what had happened the night before – dim in Nathan’s mind and fading – and he pulled the duvet over his head at just the tail of the memory, but more the brick-to-the-head of his hangover.

“C’mon, buddy, we’ll go to Pinky’s.  It’s just round the block.  Old fuck does a _mean_ frittata.”

He couldn’t be hearing this.  Like fucking _nothing._

“Chuck some Earl Hooker on the juke.  And if you slip the old man a fiver he doesn’t even _blink_ if you smoke a joint down there.  C’mon!”

God damn son of a bitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stay tuned for the sequel, “magnus and nathan get post-coital mimosas and argue about fats domino at the mom and pop diner by the bay”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments always appreciated.


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